3 #2
Rorik saw she was wearing only a light linen shift.
This small chamber wasna??t a dark pit as was Einara??s and for that he was grateful.
He quietly opened the trunk at the foot of her box bed and rifled about until he found a gown.
He jerked it over her head, smoothing it down over her hips.
There were leather shoes and he quickly slipped them on her feet and tied the leather cross straps.
Aslak came into the small chamber and handed him the rope.
He tied her hands behind her, her ankles together.
He stuffed one of her shifts into her mouth then tied it securely about her head with another shift.
He wrapped her in her wool blanket and hefted her over his shoulder.
The pain nearly brought him to his knees.
a??So much for her conceit,a?? he said under his breath, his teeth gritted against the pain, and he said it again, and he remained upright and he carried her.
They were quiet as the now dead coals in the fire pit.
Smoke still hung thick in the air and Rorik felt it curdle in his throat.
He wanted to cough. He nearly crossed his eyes with the effort to keep quiet.
He didna??t want to die here in the middle of this longhouse all because of a cough.
A man jerked upright, stared at them, then grunted, and fell again onto his back.
Rorik didna??t see Gunleik, the man whoa??d sent the knife through his shoulder.
He would like to kill him. But he would like to thank him before he did kill him.
He and the witch had kept him alivea??for Einar to torturea??but still Rorik had lived and because of them. Because of them he was now escaping.
When Aslak managed to pull the cross bar up on the double-thick oak doors, Rorika??s heart was pounding so loud he feared the enemy would hear it.
In those few moments, he wasna??t even aware of any pain in his shoulder.
All his concentration was on escape. On not coughing.
On holding the woman steady on his shoulder.
They were outside the longhouse. There were still the dogs and the other animals to get past and the half-dozen or so guards.
Suddenly, a man was standing directly in their path, his mouth open, gaping in disbelief at them.
He opened his mouth at the same time Rorik dropped Mirana.
Rorik was on him in the next instant, his hands around his throat, squeezing until the mana??s eyes bulged and his tongue burst from his mouth.
He released him and watched him gasp and heave on the ground at his feet.
He pulled his sword from its sheath. He leaned down and struck the mana??s head with the smooth handle.
a??Kill him, my lord!a??
a??I have no need of a strangera??s blood on my hands,a?? Rorik said.
a??He did not fight me. He does not deserve to die.a?? He hefted Mirana over his shoulder again, settled her to his comfort, then motioned for Aslak to continue.
He took two steps before he felt dizzy with the pain from his shoulder.
He paused a moment, shaking his head, forcing himself to block off the pain.
He breathed deeply and slowly and soon the pain was manageable.
His father had taught him this. His father had also taught him that vengeance was more important than his life, that to live without seeking vengeance reduced a man to pitiable nothingness.
They reached the small shed where his two men were being held prisoner. There were two guards lolling on the ground in front of the shed, both of them sleeping soundly, their snores filling the night air. They were wrapped in wool blankets, their swords and knives at their sides.
Rorik again dropped Mirana to the ground. He struck each mana??s head, then sheathed his sword once more.
Sculla and Hafter were in better condition then he was.
They werena??t surprised to see him and that made him feel better.
Theya??d trusted him to save them and he had.
His small band, the still unconscious woman over his shoulder, left through the rear door of the fortress.
The plank was still over the ravine, thank the gods, for Rorik had forgotten about it.
Rorik Haraldsson and his thirty men and the one woman were rowing toward the open Irish Sea within ten minutes.
Rorik looked back at Clontarf, at Einar Thorssona??s fortress. Hea??d lost this time. Next time he wouldna??t. There would be vengeance. For now, he had her, the witch, the woman whoa??d dared stick her damned knife into his throat.
He looked down at her when he laid her onto the shipa??s planking next to his feet.
She was still unconscious, still bundled in the wool blanket.
Her hair was black as a Christiana??s sins, tangled wildly about her face.
Her face shone white as the snow in the Vestfold in the deep of winter under a pale moon.
Her coloring was different, intriguing, the white flesh with her black hair and eyes so green they looked like wet moss, not like the light sky-blue of so many of his countrymen.
He wondered what race her mother had belonged to.
It didna??t matter now. She was his prisoner and he would use her as he wished.
From her he would learn everything he needed to know about Einar.
If she refused him anything, he would kill her.
The night was cool and clear, the sea calm, a half-moon shining overhead, no clouds to mar the purity of the sky. In three days, the seas and the gods willing, they would be home.
Home to Hawkfell Island.
Einar would know his name for he didna??t doubt that shea??d told everyone he was Rorik Haraldsson. But still, Einar wouldna??t know where to find him. It had taken Rorik two years to find Einar.
He allowed himself to ease back against the edge of the boat.
The oak was smooth against his back. The lapping of the waves against the side of the warship soothing.
He closed his eyes, listening to the men grunting over their oars, talking about their escape and their hatred for Einar Thorsson, the bravery and skill of Rorik, their captain, their lord.
They spoke of Gunleik and of his plan to surprise them on the beach and cut their warships free during the storm and how this Gunleik, surely a man who shouldna??t be in the service of Einar, had trapped Rorik and forced him inside, into the inner yard where he was taken.
They spoke of the battle, of how Rorik had fought like a berserker, how this same Gunleik had thrown his knife into Rorika??s shoulder, but hadna??t killed him.
Rorik tried to smile for he knew that soon a scald would be recounting these feats, but it would become heroic, this failure of his.
He felt pain flow through him, knew that he must rest now else suffer more pain than he deserved later when he must have strength.
He looked once again as the woman twisted onto her side, moaning softly, pressing against his leg.
He leaned down and pulled the blanket more closely around her.
He saw several of his men looking at her too.
He said quietly, a??She is my prisoner and my hostage.
She is not to be raped or brutalized.a??
The men mumbled, but nodded slowly, one after the other. Rorik added, a??She isna??t really a soft woman. Shea??s hard as a man in her thoughts, and shea??s proud. Leave her be and dona??t trust her.a??
Aslak said, a??She leads men and they heed her.
She has a womana??s parts, but her actions arena??t always that of a woman.
She disagrees with men if she wishes to, even with her brother, and he allows it.
I heard that he whipped her but just once I think.
She leads the men in her brothera??s absence.
Both the men and the women at Clontarf respect her and obey her.
I didna??t understand it at first, but heed what Lord Rorik says and take care, for she is dangerous, despite her small size, despite her delicate womana??s looks.
Why did she tend Lord Rorik so gently if not to keep him alive for her brothera??s tortures?
Aye, and he is known to enjoy anothera??s suffering.
I wasna??t whipped myself but I saw others whipped and he did it with great relish.a??
Rorik added, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the lapping waves against the side of the warship, a??Attend Aslaka??s words.
Hea??s lived in that fortress for the past six months.
Now, you have but three days before your rods can plow any field you wish.
Leave the woman alone. Wea??ll be home even sooner if you keep that thought in mind and hold to your oars.a??
Aslak laughed. Hafter, Rorika??s childhood friend, a man closer to him than his own brothers, said, a??Next time, Rorik.
Next time you will succeed. At least wea??ve all escaped nearly whole-hided.
There will be another time.a?? But as he spoke he was looking down at the unconscious woman, and there was hatred in his blue eyes.
Then he rubbed his head where hea??d been struck.
a??Aye,a?? he said. a??There will be another time.a??